Shattered Echoes
by korilove
Summary: What happens when your dreams and thoughts are so real, it feels like you are living them? So real, that they almost seem like memories? Stiles doesn't know, but he wants to figure it out. He needs to.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:This is inspired by random thoughts of Lydia being in Stiles' dream in 3x12, and the fact that she's there has meaning and a point to it - that she's in his heart.**

**Unbeta'd as always, happy reading!  
>xoxo<strong>

The first thing he becomes aware of is the feel of the scratchy cotton sheets on his skin. It's slightly irritating, and foreign. He always hated cheaply made sheets, he remembers crawling into them after his mom had passed, his dad had unknowingly bought the wrong kind.

His legs feel stiff and rigid, like they are made of wood. His body aches, the joints in his elbows, knees, and ankles are almost unbearable. He can feel the coolness of the air around him outside of the sheet, except that there's warmth coming from his left side.

He wants to open his eyes but his eyelids feel immensely heavy, so he listens instead.

He can hear someone breathing, and he suddenly becomes aware of the feel of breath on his neck. The breaths come softly and steadily, almost rhythmically. They're warm and send a chill down his spine. The only other sounds in the room are a very light beeping noise, and what sounds like rumbling - no, snoring? - coming from the other side of the room.

_Where would I hear a beeping?_ He thinks to himself. He focuses on the time lapse between each beep, and the pitch. It's oddly familiar and gives him an eerie feeling.

The more he thinks about the beeping, he's filled with images of his mom and Scott's mom. He sees his mom before she died, happy and always smiling. His best friend's mom looking stressed and worn out, but a weak smile always donning her face.

_I know where I am._ He thinks. The only thing those two faces have in common other than him and Scott is Beacon Hills Memorial - the local hospital.

His eyes shoot open and what he sees confirms it. He's laying in a hospital bed, the white sheets are crisp and blend in with the rest of the room. He scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, that overly clean smell that always accompanies these rooms. He looks over to the right and sees his dad, deft of his Sheriff uniform, looking tired and slumped in a chair. There are bags under his eyes as he sleeps, his mouth hanging open as he snores lightly, an image of his dad that is all too familiar.

He suddenly becomes more aware of the warmth that is radiating beside him, and it clicks in his mind that someone is in the hospital bed with him, curled up against his side. It's a girl.

He can tell by the structure of the body, she's petite and small. She's wearing a dark colored skirt, a little short and he wonders why someone would crawl into a hospital bed with him while wearing a skirt.

_Lydia._

He turns over and he feels her stir, but she doesn't wake. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled out of her face in a high bun on the top of her head, wisps of hair have fallen out and are framing her cheeks. From what he can see, she's wearing hardly any makeup, which is completely out of the ordinary. She has the same bags under her eyes as his father does, and he starts to wonder how long they've been here.

Or rather, how long he's been here.

He watches Lydia's chest rise and fall, and he absentmindedly brings his hand up to the pale skin of her arm. God she is so beautiful He thinks. He caresses it slightly and she shifts, but still doesn't wake. The image of her laying there looking so peaceful brings up a thought so vivid, it almost seems like a memory.

_"Lydia." He whispers._

_The room is brightly lit, the morning sunshine peers through the curtains and streams across the bed. The crisp blue sheets are wrapped around her small frame, her red tresses a mess on her pillow. He's been awake for hours, but couldn't bring himself to leave the bed. The sounds of her peaceful sleep were too enticing. There's something about Lydia when she's asleep - no make up, no attitude. It's Lydia in her purest form. He knows he needs to get up and start the day, but doesn't want to start it without her. _

_He moves his right arm from where it's draped over her waist, and softly swipes a strand of hair from her face. He caresses her cheek, gently trying to rouse her. "Lyds, its time to get up." He tries again, hating to take her out of her reverie, but not willing to leave her side._

_"Mmm, stop." She murmurs, and tries to turn over, out of his reach. Instead he pulls her closer and she nestles into him, placing a sleepy kiss to his lips._

_"I love you." He whispers out loud._

Lydia's eyes flash open and the look across her face goes from shock, to relief, to confusion.

"Hi." He says timidly.

"Hi." She returns, looking up at him sheepishly with a small smile. He can tell she's having a hard time keeping her excitement to herself, but she stays quiet.

"How long have I been out?" He asks her softly.

Lydia bites her lip, turning the plump flesh a little darker and he feels himself swallow. She doesn't move from her place curled up against him, but responds with "3 weeks."

"Oh." He replies, shifting his gaze from her. Instead of focusing on Lydia's lips, he tries to think back. He can't remember what happened, the last thing he remembers is being in the jeep with Scott, driving home from school.

"Stiles..?" He looks back down at Lydia, her green eyes are full of questions, but the first one she asks takes him by surprise. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Uh.. well.." _How the hell did a thought make me act that out?_ He thinks to himself, his mind reeling. "M-maybe?" He stammers.

Lydia looks down and bites her lip again, just hard enough that the bottom lip fills out a bit. He finds himself thinking about the fullness of her lips and how they feel against his, and how he wants to kiss her again and again.

But she quickly looks up at him and his resolve melts away again.

She appears to wave off whatever he may have done to wake her up. She moves onto her next question while staring at his chest; "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh, I think I was driving Scott home from school. Does that sound right?" He asks her.

"Almost." She says quietly.

He painfully moves his right arm up to her face and cups her cheek, forcing her to look up at him again. "Lyds, what happened?"

Her eyes start to glaze a bit as she answers him. "You were driving Scott and I home, and we were hit by a truck - the driver had a heart attack. He hit us head on - "

Stiles' eyes go wide as panic rises in his chest. "What about Scott?" He cuts in.

"Scott is alright." Lydia's hand grips his arm as if to steady him, even though they are both laying down.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay, good. And You?"

"I'm fine." He hears her trying to mask the fact that she's lying. She was never very good at it, at least not when it comes to him.

Lydia drops her hand and shifts, trying to sit up. "We should probably wake up your dad.." She tries, obviously trying to change the subject. He reaches for her and grasps her tightly. "Not just yet." He whispers.

It's painful to hold onto her, but he doesn't let go just the same. The embrace feels so natural, like he's held her a million times over.

_"Stiles." Lydia's running up to him, her eyes glassy with tears. The sky is dark and there's an apparent chill in the air. He becomes aware that he's been running towards her too, and when they get close enough, their arms wrap around the other._

_"Oh thank god." He whispers._

_She's crying lightly into his shirt, and when he breaks the hug, she stretches up on her tip toes to kiss him. It's soft at first but then it turns desperate. She's demanding with her lips, and he returns the same fervor._

_His fingers get tangled in her hair and her hands roam all over him. Soon it's dueling tongues and heavy breaths and whispers of "I'm so glad you're okay" and " I love you", and everything else seems to just melt away._

"Stiles?" Lydia's whisper breaks his thought away from him, and the eerie feeling returns, the thoughts are too vivid. He realizes he's been clutching to her so tightly he's shaking.

He jolts and releases her from his grip, and she looks up at him with questioning eyes. "I'm okay," He says, not sure if he's trying to convince her or himself. "I promise."

She purses her lips and nods before sitting up. She swings her legs off the side of the hospital cot and makes her way around it to wake up the Sheriff.

"Linden?" Lydia whispers as she softly pushes on his dad's shoulders, trying to wake him.

"You gotta have coffee." Lydia whips back around to look at him again. She has this look on her face of utter confusion, and he can't help but smirk at her. "If he's been out for a while, you won't wake him without coffee."

"Good thing we have some." A voice says from the doorway. Stiles shifts his eyes to his best friend, standing in the doorway. He's leaning on the door frame, a raven haired girl beside him.

Allison smiles as she walks over to Lydia and hands her the coffee. Scott makes a beeline for Stiles, hugging him tightly. "I'm glad your okay man." Scott says softly, and Stiles smiles wide.

There's a commotion as Scott releases him, and his dad scrambles up from the chair, gathering his son up in a swooping hug. "Thank god." Is all he says, but the grip is so tight Stiles' knows what he means.

"I love you too dad." He chokes out, smiling.

When he wakes up later the room is empty. It's dark now, there's no light shining in from the blinds covering the windows. The only sound in the room is the beeping from the monitors.

He finds himself wondering what these thoughts are doing in his head. Sure, he's thought about Lydia and what it would be like to be with her, but never on this degree, or in this much detail.

After a few minutes of silence, he hears the door squeak open. He doesn't see who it is, but he hears the clack of heels and knows there's only one person it could be.

He hears her walk across the room and sit down quietly in the chair that is closest to him. She hadn't spoken to him since she woke his dad earlier, having left the room to let them catch up.

"I have to tell you something." He whispers, just loud enough so that he knows she's heard him.

"'Kay." Comes her reply, just as quiet.

She rises from the chair and he feels the bed dip down to accommodate her weight on the edge of the bed. He curls his legs away from her to give her more room before speaking."I think I dreamed about you when I was out."

She's silent for a few moments, and he forces himself to continue. "They weren't really dreams though, well at least it didn't feel like a dream.." He rambles, trailing off.

He imagines her biting her lip, and releasing it before she responds. "Well, that is normal for comatose patients. Sometimes they experience alternate realities instead of being able to dream normally."

Stiles just nods, thinking she's hit it right on the nose. He pauses before speaking again, unsure if he should tell her. "That makes sense, because I'm pretty sure it wasn't reality."

It comes out more snarky than he meant it, and he braces for the retort he's sure he'll get.

But it doesn't come.

Instead, she asks: "What were your dreams about Stiles?"

"You." He says blatantly. "Me. Us. Together."

He hears her breath catch and he sits up. He can just barely see her in the little light the monitors give off in the dark room. He lifts his upper body off the bed to sit up, it's maddening trying to gauge her reaction from his position.

Lydia's face is blank - completely void of expression other than her lips mashed together so fiercely that they're practically invisible. To the untrained eye, one would have no idea what to make of it. But Stiles understands - she's got her thinking face on.

When she finally speaks again, her voice is clinical. "We're they about anything in particular?"

"Not really, just like.." He pauses for a moment, feeling embarrassed and awkward. "Like, we were obviously in a relationship and the dreams were just things that come along with that."

She cocks her eyebrow in the darkness and he knows exactly how that must have sounded. "Not, like that. Crap." He tries to correct himself.

Lydia laughs softly, almost under her breath. "It's okay Stiles, I know what you mean."

"Lyds, there's something else you should know." He decides it will be better if she just knows.

"Yeah?" She asks, her voice tentative.

"They felt real. Like more real than the dreams I had when he was controlling me." He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. He knows she'll understand that he means the nogitsune, but he hates bringing that up. "It feels like it was something I'd actually experienced, like-"

"Like a memory?" She finishes for him.

"Yeah, exactly like a memory."

Lydia's hand flutters over the hand he has resting on his lap. It's cold in comparison to his, but he knows the gesture is meant to comfort. "We'll figure it out."

Lydia goes to move off the bed, but Stiles grasps her wrist as she pulls away. She turns her head back to him with a look of confusion and concern on her face. "Don't leave me alone. Please." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

She nods slowly, a weak smile on her lips as she stands up from the cot. He hears her pull the chair closest to the bed right up to the side, so they are parallel. He sighs as he lays his head back down on the pillow, letting his eyes close. Lydia laces her fingers with his, as if to confirm that she isn't going anywhere.

It's his last thought as sleep claims him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:Thanks for the response to this story, I like hearing your input! :)**

**This chapter has a smutty scene, so beware!**

**Unbeta'd as always.**  
><strong>xoxo<strong>

He's roused from slumber the next morning by a familiar, sweet voice. "Stiles, come on honey, it's time to wake up." It says.

Stiles shakes awake, opening his eyes with force. If he weren't so sore from laying in the same position for 3 weeks, he probably would have flailed his limbs from being startled.

He looks over to find the owner of the voice, and sees his best friend's mom. Melissa's dressed in her hospital scrubs, her dark brown ringlets are pulled back into a pony tail, and a small smile displayed on her lips. It takes him a second to adjust and remember that he's in the hospital. He flexes his fingers out, and his left hand feels feather light and empty - he can remember the feeling of Lydia's fingers entwined with his from the night before.

"I'm awake, I'm awake." He murmurs, and props himself up. Melissa smiles at him and checks her chart. She fiddles with the IV and reads the monitors, scribbling on the chart all the while.

When she's seemingly finished, she lingers next to the cot. Her hand comes to rest on his shoulder, her touch soft and motherly. "How are you feeling?" She asks, concerned.

"I'm okay. I mean my legs and arms are so stiff I feel like I can barely move them and I feel disgusting, but compared to being comatose I think I can handle this." He rambles. Melissa cracks a knowing smile, and chuckles under her breath. "Well Mister, I think you may be allowed to shower if you can manage to get up and walk to it." She says, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Stiles laughs lightly and nods. "That, would be awesome." He says, swinging his legs out from the sheet and dangling them over the side of the bed.

He winces from the pain in his limbs; he didn't realize how much it would hurt to stretch them out. He stumbles, his legs failing from disuse. As if she already knew, Melissa rushes over to catch him just before he falls to the linoleum floor. She helps him stand up, give him a knowing look, and unhooks the IV. She slowly helps him walk from the bed to the bathroom adjoining his room.

"Thanks." He manages, trying to put on a brave face. She just smiles at him and closes the door behind her as she exits.

Sighing and running his hands through his hair, Stiles sheds the hospital gown he's wearing and lets it drop to the floor. He looks up at the mirror on the wall and gasps at his own reflection.

It's the first time he realizes the accident must have been pretty bad - he's covered in bruises from where he must have felt the impact. They're a discolored yellow with a bit of purple mixed in, and he cringes a bit at how large they are. His face is pale and looks sunken in, his eyes are surrounded by dark circles. He even has a bandage on his left rib cage. He gingerly rubs his hand over it, and slowly peels it off his skin. Underneath, the wound has been stitched up. Stiles counts 19 stitches still protruding from his body.

Deciding he can look more at the damage later, Stiles walks over to the shower and starts the water. He steps into the bathtub and immediately relaxes. The heat washes over his skin and it's much welcomed - his hospital room is cool and the scratchy sheets aren't exactly comfortable.

Stiles just stands under the shower head, letting the water and steam help drive the aches from his body. As he does, he's filled with the odd, eerie feeling that he keeps getting.

_Out of nowhere, he feels a finger softly trace an S pattern on his back. The touch makes him shiver, and he turns around to see the culprit._

_It's Lydia._

_Correction, it's a naked Lydia; her red hair cascading down her body, face void of make up and a seductive look on her face. She smirks at him before pulling him closer, so that they're skin to skin. He feels heat boiling in his blood, desire rumbling in his belly. She crashes her lips to his, her hands running along his back and mixing with the scalding water. _

_He groans as he tangles his hands in her hair, the wetness from the shower changing the texture of her tresses. She runs her tongue along his lips and her taste explodes in his mouth. Without thinking, he presses her against the wall of the shower, controlling the kiss. As he presses her up against the wall, he sends shampoo and shower gel bottles clattering. Lydia doesn't seem to mind though, her hands are everywhere and he's consumed by all of her._

_He breaks the kiss to move her neck, kissing and sucking in places he knows drive her crazy. Lydia moves her hands up into his hair, threading and weaving her fingers through it._

_"Stiles." She moans, breathy and soft. Somehow, she wraps her legs around his waist and he can feel his dick pressing into her, it's enough to make him shudder._

_"God, Lydia." He manages. Lydia moves his face back up to hers, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips again. She lifts her hips to grind into him, and he understands what she wants._

_He slowly slides into her and they both groan in approval. Lydia's kisses become more desperate as he thrusts into her, her nails digging into the soft flesh of his shoulders._

_He breaks their kiss to get a better angle, his forehead mashed up against hers as he fucks her. He watches her intently, knowing that when she's about to come, her face and voice will give her away._

_"Stiles." She pants, and her face goes blank - completely relaxes and he feels her spasming around him. That's all it takes for him to follow her, holding her hips as they fall apart together._

Stiles gasps as the water from the shower head turns cold, and he has to jump away from the stream to get away. He shakes his head forcefully, trying to get the image of Lydia coming undone out of his mind, as it's seemingly etched on his eyelids.

At that thought, he glances down at his feet and notices his come on the bathtub. "Great." He mumbles out loud. _Now these thoughts are affecting my dick too?_

Scott visits him later, trying to fill him in on what's happening with the pack.

"So, Isaac left?" Stiles asks incredulously.

A sad smile dons the alpha's lips. "Yeah, he said he needed to get away." He says simply. Stiles knows he's more upset than he's letting on, but doesn't prod his best friend any further about it.

"So what about you and Allison? I mean, now that Isaac's out of the picture." Stiles questions, choosing to change the subject. Usually he doesn't have to ask, Scott is usually an open book. Especially when it comes to this particular ex girlfriend.

"What about her?" Scott says softly, shifting his eyes to his hands. "She's still not okay with the line drawn in our worlds, and I kinda might have something going with Kira.." Scott trails off.

Stiles just raises his eyebrows at his best friend. "Yeah, okay buddy." He says.

"What about you? What's going on with you and Lydia?" Scott prods, softly jabbing Stiles in the shoulder.

Stiles does a double take. "What do you mean? There's nothing going on with me and Lydia. Like, yeah maybe she stayed by my side while I was out but she hasn't been back and she's still with Aiden and- "

Scott stops Stiles' rambling with a shake of his head. "No man, she and Aiden have been on the outs since the accident."

"Oh." Stiles says simply, not sure what else to say.

Scott rolls his eyes. "What, Stiles?"

"Nothing, I just- I just had another dream about her."

"Another dream or memory?" Scott asks, eye brows raised.

"Okay fine it was another memory type thing." Stiles admits.

"So what was it this time?"

Stiles turns scarlet as the memory comes back to him, "It was surreal, she kinda showered with me.."

His explanation is cut off as the hospital room door opens, and the redhead and her best friend enter the threshold. Stiles' mouth hangs open slightly, as if he's forgotten his thought, and Scott quickly elbows him in the ribs to bring him to his senses before the girls see.

"Hey Stiles, how are you feeling?" Allison says as she takes the seat closest to the bed. Lydia follows suit and takes the seat next to her, scooting the chair closer to the cot.

"Good, yeah, good. I feel good." He rambles, trying to cover up the fact that he and Scott were just discussing her and Lydia.

"And your dreams?" Allison says, getting right to the point.

Stiles shifts his gaze from Allison to Lydia, and she flushes, unable to hold his gaze. "You told her?" He asks incredulously.

"No, I did." Scott pipes up.

Stiles whips his head back to his best friend and lets out a noise of frustration. "Really dude?" Stiles glares at Scott for a few seconds before deciding it's not worth the fight - obviously there is more going on between him and Allison and he'll get him back for it.

After a few moments of silence, Lydia speaks up. "Well, does anyone have any theories?"

"Well, they aren't just dreams, and they seem to be affecting my actions outside of them too." Stiles offers.

"Like what?" Allison questions, her face scrunched.

"Uh..Like - like when I woke you up yesterday, Lydia." Stiles manages, deciding to keep the details of his wet dream shower sequence to himself.

Lydia nods curtly, but doesn't offer explanation to Scott or Allison, and Stiles is grateful to skip over the awkwardness. "Then it's obviously something that's affecting you outside of what may or may not have occurred in your brain during the coma. It's gotta be something else." Lydia says thoughtfully, and Allison nods her head, agreeing with her.

"So, anyone heard of anything like this before?" Scott asks, a not-so-hopeful tone in his voice.

The four of them stare at each other for a few moments, and no one speaks. There's a sense of gloom in the room, like something bad is going to happen, and Stiles shudders. "I guess not." He says, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Lydia softly grasps Stiles' knee through the hospital sheets, rubbing her thumb over it soothingly. "We'll find out, I bet Deaton knows something." She says.

Stiles looks up at her and gives her a weak smile. "Well at least I'll be able to help soon, I can't wait to get out of here."

"When are you getting discharged?" Allison questions.

"Tomorrow morning." Scott and Lydia say simultaneously.

Allison laughs as her best friend flushes, as if she's embarrassed that she knew that. Scott joins her and Stiles just smiles.

"Alright guys, time to go." A different nurse pops her head into the room, gesturing towards the door. Melissa must be off for the night, otherwise Stiles probably wouldn't have had to be alone for the night. "Visiting hours are over, and you'll see him tomorrow."

Allison and Scott reluctantly stand up, and make their way to the door. Lydia lingers behind, but she stands from her chair and makes her way up the bed so she's face to face with Stiles.

"You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine." He says, knowing she can see through the face he's putting on. These dreams, thoughts, memories, or whatever they are have him spooked.

"You've had more dreams haven't you?" She questions, her voice barely a whisper.

Stiles just nods, and Lydia grabs his hand and squeezes lightly. "I'll do some research tonight and we can convene tomorrow. I'll show you what I find okay?"

"Okay." Stiles whispers and she offers him a smile, rubbing her thumb across his palm before leaving the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, it just make more sense to break it where it ends instead of trying to make a long chapter. If you like listening to music muses while you read, inspiration for this is from everlong by foo fighters.**

**Unbeta'd as always, happy reading!  
>xoxo<strong>

He's been home a whole 20 minutes before Lydia shows up.

The discharge from the hospital was pretty uneventful, his dad wheeled him out after the all clear from the doctor, and they drove home. It felt normal to ride shotgun in the sheriff cruiser, police chatter on the scanner and just glancing out the window at the whizzing of trees and houses. It's probably the most normal he's had in the last 48 hours.

Not wanting to know how bad the jeep looked (or rather, being completely incapable of seeing his beloved vehicle reduced to ruin), Stiles hadn't gone his normal route through the garage when they had arrived home. He instead chose to enter the house through the front door.

His bedroom was seemingly untouched from the 3 weeks he spent in the coma. There were papers on the floor, obviously from a long night of research and the bed was still unmade. He was just finishing cleaning up when Lydia bursts into the room.

"Hey." She says in exasperation, puffing out the greeting. She sets her messenger bag down on his desk chair, and the light denim jacket she was wearing ends up slung on top of it.

Lydia flips her long hair out of her face; running her fingers through it, so the curls fall back around her in a tousled way. Stiles can see how each strand frames her face, the reddish blonde locks cascading over her flower printed dress.

"You okay?" She asks, eyebrow cocked. Stiles realizes he hasn't moved from his stance at the foot of his bed since she entered, and he's definitely been staring. Not that innocently either. Possibly with his mouth hanging open.

Stiles audibly clears his throat before responding. "Uhm, yeah. Fine. Totally fine." He manages, trying to be convincing. Shaking his head slightly, he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. Lydia follows suit, bouncing on the mattress as she does.

"What'd you find?" Stiles ventures.

Lydia shrugs her shoulders halfheartedly and frowns. "I couldn't find too much on dreams actually affecting body movements and functions, but I found plenty on vivid dreams and lucid dreaming. Were you able to ever control the dreams?"

"No. I don't even realize it's a dream until I come out of it." Stiles says flatly.

Lydia just nods, but plows forward with her findings. "Well personally I think lucid dreaming is out - I know you definitely aren't paralyzed during them."

As she lets the words tumble out of her mouth, she laughs lightly under her breath. Stiles knows she's referring to his wake up kiss from the hospital - that he still doesn't remember by the way - and that they still haven't actually talked about. He cringes internally at the thought.

Lydia turns her head towards Stiles, and slowly looks up at him. Her eyes linger on his mouth for what seems like way too long, and then quickly flick up, green irises meeting amber. He's pretty sure he could stare into her eyes for days, and he'd be okay with it. They are pretty distracting.

The room is silent apart from their hushed breathing, as Lydia looks like she's fighting a war inside herself. Her eyes keep flitting across his face, and he swears she's leaning in, and all he can think about is the last time this happened. Well, that he remembers anyway.

When she stopped his panic attack, the kiss was rushed and breathy and sloppy. He can remember her words as clear as day: "When I kissed you, you held your breath."

His breath catches as his memory of that kiss melds with another.

_He can't breathe, it's as if the weight of the entire world is sitting on his chest, suffocating him. Time slows down to nearly a stop and he stumbles, heaving to try to get air into his lungs._

_He knows that Lydia is talking to him, trying to calm him down, but nothing really registers. He's mildly aware of cool fingers pressing up against his cheeks, but the lack of air makes it hard to think. Suddenly, he's looking at Lydia with her eyes closed, and _oh my god she's kissing me.

_All the thoughts swirling in his mind come halting to a stop, and he forces himself to return the pressure to her lips because it's Lydia FREAKING Martin and she's kissing him. The girl of his dreams is kissing him, and it's unreal and it probably won't ever happen again._

_And then she pulls away. His breathing slows and he opens his eyes, and hers are still closed. When she opens them, she doesn't blink, like she's surprised._

_"H-how'd you do that?" He asks softly, before he can stop himself._

_"I-uh read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack. So, when I kissed you, you held your breath." She replies, eyes wide and doe like. He doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful. _

_"I did?"_

_Lydia gives him a small smile. "Yeah, you did."_

_It's like all he can focus on is her lips as he thanks her. They're plump and full and pink and he thinks if he licked his own he'd taste her lip gloss, which makes his heart ache slightly. "Thanks, that was really smart." He says._

_His eyes shift from hers to her lips and then back again. Lydia doesn't move or speak, like she's frozen. Before his brain can talk himself out of it, his heart kicks in and he leans in to press his lips to hers again. Somehow, miraculously, she slowly kisses him back._

_He moves his left arm from it's spot on the floor up to her cheek, and softly rubs his thumb across the smooth skin. His fingers ghost the hairs poking out of her fishtail-braid, and she makes the smallest desperate sound, almost like a whimper. If he hadn't been paying attention, it's quite possible he would have missed it._

_Reluctantly, he pulls away and again, her eyes are linger closed. This time it's her turn to softly let out a breath she was holding as she forces her eyes open. "What was that?" she whispers, her voice barely audible._

_Matching the softness of her voice, he replies "I don't know."_

Stiles snaps back into reality as Lydia's phone rings, Miley Cyrus' We Can't Stop playing out loudly. She freezes, an inch away from pressing her lips to his. She's so close he can feel her exhale, the warm air brushing against his lips. He can smell her perfume and parts of her hair are tickling his face. She seems to regain her senses as she opens her eyes and jerks away from him, a bewildered look on her face.

"Sorry." She huffs as she moves from her place on the bed to rummage in her bag for her cell. Stiles grimaces behind her back and lets out a cursed sigh as she answers the call.

"Hey, Ally.." Stiles tunes out the conversation, choosing to focus on his newest memory experience. It had never been an altered memory of his own, and somehow it felt even more real than others. If it were even possible.

Lydia stows her phone in her jacket as she puts it on and slings her messenger bag over her shoulder. "Come on, Stiles. Deaton found something and he wants to talk to you."

Stiles sighs as he gets up from the bed and follows Lydia out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ****Hey guys, sorry for the wait for this chapter! I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted this to go, but I think it's getting really interesting now :) Also, I apparently posted this chapter on ao3 like 2 weeks ago and forgot I had it here too! I am so sorry!**

**Unbeta'd as always!**  
><strong>xoxo<strong>

"You mean we have to go prodding inside my head again?"

Deaton grimaces at Stiles' words, but doesn't look away from Scott, who is pacing the floor of the operating room. The steel tables are absent from their usual place in the center of the room, they've been pushed to the sides of the animal clinic. In their place are two classroom chairs, facing the door to the hallway.

"For lack of a better way to put it, yes Stiles. It does appear we will have to get Scott to enter your mind." Deaton replies.

"Do we need someone to go in with Scott this time?" Allison's voice comes from the left of Stiles, causing him to turn his head in her direction. She's sitting on one of the operating tables, swinging her legs back and forth, and not so discretely side eyeing Lydia as she speaks.

"I think it might be a good idea, if last time tells us anything.." Scott trails off as Lydia snaps her head up to glare at him. Stiles catches her narrow her eyes at Scott, making him wonder why she's so adamant with him. What happened last time that is so significant?

"I mean, last time we were tricked pretty easily, it can't hurt to have back up right?" He says, brushing off Lydia's hard gaze.

Lydia seems to mull over the statement for a moment - her lips purse and her sage irises wander to the ceiling - before nodding stiffly. "So, same procedure as last time?" She asks.

Deaton shrugs his shoulders slightly before speaking again. "It's uncertain. Last time you and Scott delved into his mind to get to his subconscious, Stiles was possessed by a spirit. We knew what the issue was, and how to rectify it. This, is an entirely different situation. We don't know what to expect."

"You mean you don't think i'm possessed by another evil spirit who's hell bent on revenge that ends with me trying to kill my friends?" Stiles wonders out loud, sarcasm dripping from his words.

A hand firmly grips Stile's shoulder, making him turn to see the origin of the contact. Deaton's firm hands guide him to one of the chairs, and force him to sit. "It's unlikely." He says, his expression unreadable.

"That - wasn't a no." Stiles mutters under his breath.

"Lydia, it's probably best if you go in with Scott again." Deaton says, walking around Stiles to face him.

"I kinda figured that."

At her words, Allison, Scott and Stiles all turn towards her. Lydia's cheeks flush slightly but otherwise, she seems unfazed. "What? I'm the only other one who's done this before."

Well, at least she's still thinking logically.

Lydia takes her seat to the right of Stiles, and Stiles feels Scott's warm hand come to rest on the back of his neck. Even with the warmth radiating from his best friend, he can't help but feel a chill run through his system.

"Now, we don't know what obstacles you may face once you are inside Stiles' subconscious. If there is nothing supernatural influencing him, you may immediately be inside the white room. If he is suffering from influence, you may be tricked with some of your dark secrets and desires, as last time. Either way, if you do not arrive in the white room together, it is imperative that you all proceed as one from that point forward. Is that clear?" Deaton explains, kneeling in front of the three of them. Allison has come up behind him, a worried expression splayed on her face.

"What happens if they don't wait for each other?" She asks.

Deaton turns his head towards her to acknowledge her question before changing his expression to complete seriousness and turning back to Lydia, Stiles and Scott. "They might be lost to each other."

Deaton's words slowly sink into Stiles' mind and he swallows thickly. What does that mean? Lost to each other? Does that mean that Lydia and Scott are in danger too?

He doesn't get the chance to ask though, as Deaton gives Scott the nod, and sharp claws pierce Stiles' skin just under his hairline before everything goes black.

When Stiles' eyes snap back open, all he sees is harsh, blinding, white light.

He squints through the light, trying to get his pupils to adjust. As a reflex, his hand comes up to his face, trying to shield him from the harsh strain it puts on his eyes.

Once the room starts to come into focus, he can see he's back in the white room. White walls, white linoleum floor and bright fluorescent lights overhead. At the furthest end, he sees two figures standing on the far end of the room - the nemeton in front of them. One is tall, broad and dark skinned. The other is petite, slender and fair.

Scott and Lydia.

Stiles breaks into a run towards the nemeton without even thinking. As he draws closer, the features of his friends come into focus. Lydia's flaming hair, Scott's messy dark hair, Lydia's flushed lips, Scott's arm tattoo.

What is different though, is how they are dressed. Lydia is in dark blue denims instead of her usual skirt, and her hair is pulled into a ponytail - without the usual finesse. Scott is dressed darker somehow, he looks more tired.

When he reaches the nemeton, he stops dead in his tracks. Something feels off, like it's a trick. His skin goosebumps as he feels the air chill significantly.

As if his instincts sense something, he catches a glimpse of a shimmer that radiates off Lydia and Scott. Like they aren't real. Like they don't belong there.  
>Lydia seems to notice his hesitation, and she speaks. "It's okay, Stiles."<p>

Stiles just nods at her. Something about her voice sounds different too - like she's speaking off-key. He feels the chill brush over his skin again, and swiftly turns around. The long room he just ran through is now closed off, he finds himself face to face with a white wall.

Panicking, Stiles turns to the left, but he slams into another wall. With a bad feeling, he tries to go right, but is closed in again.

The only way to proceed is to go up and over the nemeton, towards the Lydia and Scott he's not so sure are real.

Slowly, he inches his way to the tree stump. He lifts his right leg, and when he sets his foot down on the nemeton it gives way. It sinks into the floor and he falls into blackness again, swallowing him whole.

The bad feeling he had in the white room is even more prominent when he opens his eyes again, and they adjust to the scene in front of him.

He's back in the animal hospital, but it's different. The tables are in their rightful place, the chairs he and Lydia had been sitting in are gone. The lights are dim, making it hard to decipher much, other than the papers that are strewn across the room. The only source of light comes from the tiny windows at the top of the walls. It appears to be moonlight.

With a little more inspection, Stiles notices something. There is a sliver of yellow light, a tiny crack, coming from the door.

Deciding to go with it, Stiles follows the source of light to the door that he knows leads into the reception office of the clinic. He turns the handle, and braces himself for whatever else may be different.

The office is brightly lit, but it's laid out different. Instead of the desk and front door being to his left, he finds himself faced with a wall. To the right, the desk appears the same as it always had. The light switch is on the opposite side of the front door, and the color of the walls is darker than normal.

"Good, you are awake."

Stiles snaps his head to the source of the voice, and is met by Lydia.

She's dressed the same as she had been in the white room, but now that he's closer to her he can see the dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes are shining - no twinkling - somehow, but it all just feels off.

"Wha-what happened?" He says, his voice almost foreign in his throat.

As he turns the corner towards the desk, he sees the others. Deaton - dressed almost as if he were from the matrix, Allison - her hair as long and dark as it had been when she first moved to town, and Scott - his hair longer and dressed in leather. Stiles swears he sees the same glimmer he saw in the white room, but he can't place it.

"You must be very confused Stiles, I do apologize." Deaton says, motioning to the chair across from him. Stiles doesn't move from the spot, shaking his head.

"Confused doesn't even cover it. What the hell is this?" He spews, his voice incredulous. The goosebumps raised on his skin become more defined, everything about this seems wrong.

"Please lower your voice Stiles. Take a seat and we'll explain everything." Deaton replies.

"I don't think so, Morpheus. You better start talking." Stiles says frantically.

"We need your help Stiles." Scott says, stepping forward. Stiles recoils from him, backing up into the wall.

"Need my help with what?"

Lydia and Scott exchange a hard glance, Lydia appears to be scolding him silently, and Scott 's face softens as he steps back and nods.

"Please, just sit down, and we'll explain everything." Allison says, motioning to the same chair Deaton had.

"I don't want to sit down, I want to have answers. What is this?" Stiles says, feeling claustrophobic. He can tell by looking at the front door of the clinc that the door is locked and the open sign is turned - they're the only ones here. He could probably make a break for it.

"Sit down, Stiles. Last chance." Deaton says, the civil tone gone from his voice.

Before he can say anything else, he feels a sharp jab at his neck. He flinches, and instinctively rubs his hand over the spot as he falls to the floor.

Lydia is setting a syringe down on the reception desk, and crouches down to Stiles' level.

"Next time, listen to Deaton and I won't have to do that again". She says, her voice fading as his vision blurs, eyes watering and numbness spreading throughout his body.

**A/N: So this is where my original premise of a parallel universe comes in - I tried to make the differences really subtle - this universe is darker and don't be lost on the fact that the other side's Stiles is not present.**

**Let me know what you think!**


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